by Maggie Wells
Marlee snickered. “The courthouse has been decommissioned and is now a privately funded museum, therefore not technically government property.”
Alicia processed the information. When she peeked at Harry for verification, he could only nod.
“I see. And this live nativity would involve...what, exactly?”
“Well, all the churches in town are involved. It’s a devotional sort of thing. We have a Mary and a Joseph, a bunch of shepherds, an angel and, of course, a baby Jesus.”
“Of course you do,” Alicia murmured, her eyes wide with what Harry could only assume was shock. “People really do these things?”
“It’s an old tradition. We put it on for a couple of hours on the weekend evenings leading up to Christmas. We start this weekend.”
Harry narrowed his eyes at Marlee. “What are you suggesting?”
“My mama is in charge of arranging scheduling for those participating,” Marlee responded with an overbright smile. “I’m sure I can convince her to let you all participate. We’ll let it be known you’re in, and hopefully, Matt Rinker will show himself.”
It was Ben’s turn to snort. “I know I must be missing something, but why would something like a live nativity lure a man out of the shadows?”
Alicia sat up straighter. “Because he’s been saved,” she said without thinking.
Marlee flashed her a beauty-queen smile. “Bingo!” Turning to Ben, she softened the smile but didn’t dim the wattage. “Matt Rinker has found religion. And he found it at a revival where some of Samuel Coulter’s snakes were being handled,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Either way, he considers himself a devout Christian these days.”
“Apparently, he missed the whole bit about loving thy brother as thyself,” Harry said dryly.
“Or the thou shalt not kill part,” Alicia grumbled.
Marlee waved a hand. “Anyhow, the Rinkers participate every year. Matt plays one of the Magi.”
Harry fixed his gaze on Alicia. “When did you fill Marlee in on all of this?” he asked her.
Alicia shrugged. “She’s the one I texted.”
“You got it all into one text message?” he asked, incredulous.
She smirked. “Maybe I’m as good a typist as Ben is.”
Marlee laughed. “I was at the Ladies Guild meeting when Marjorie was talking about Matt.”
“Ladies Guild?” Ben asked.
Marlee covered his hand with hers. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Alicia swallowed a laugh. “Trying to lure him out isn’t a horrible idea. But we can’t be certain he isn’t trying to do more than scare you. My gut feeling is he’s not. If he really wanted to hurt you, it wouldn’t have been hard to do so in a more direct way.”
“Don’t forget Saturday night,” he reminded her grimly.
A faint flush colored her cheeks. “Except for Saturday night.”
“What happened Saturday night?” Ben asked.
Harry sat up straighter. “There was one incident we didn’t report,” he admitted. “The night of Simon Wingate’s party, when we were walking home, a dark sedan with no headlights came at us in the street.”
Ben stiffened. He slid his hand out from under Marlee’s to reach for the notebook in his breast pocket. “Why didn’t you report it?”
Alicia sighed tiredly. “We had no description of the vehicle, no license plate number—we had nothing to go on other than we saw a dark car coming at us. We had to make a dive for some bushes on the other side of the road.”
“You’re sure they were aiming for you?” Ben pressed.
“One hundred percent,” Alicia answered.
“The driver hopped the curb,” Harry said, taking up the story. “When he realized he wasn’t going to be able to get us without mowing down half the yard, whoever it was wheeled around and took off. Neither of us was in a position to get an ID on the car or the driver.”
“Matt Rinker drives a black Camry,” Marlee said almost to herself.
“What?” Ben said, swiveling toward his girlfriend.
Marlee pursed her lips. “I saw him at the Daisy driving Marjorie’s car. I asked her about it, and she said they sold it to Matt so he could have reliable transportation to get a job. It’s newish, but not brand-new.”
Alicia fell back against the cushion of her chair and tipped her head to the ceiling. “Ding, ding, ding! Folks, we may have a winner.”
“Are Marjorie and Chet in contact with Matt?” Harry asked Marlee.
She shrugged and wobbled her hand. “Sporadic. They had a big falling-out when things started to go missing from the pharmacy, and I think he used to turn up now and again trying to hit his mom up for money. But to hear Marjorie, he’s completely turned things around since the tent revival. She’s saying it was his salvation from addiction.”
Alicia leaned forward again. “So, what are you proposing? How can we be sure this Rinker guy will show up if I put on a robe and play shepherdess?”
“Oh, Alicia.” Marlee sighed. “Have you learned nothing about this town? All we have to do is let it be known you and Harry will be taking part in the nativity, and the gossip mill will take care of the rest. Never underestimate the power of word of mouth.” She eyed Alicia with a raised eyebrow. “Anyway, I wasn’t suggesting you dress up as a shepherdess.”
“You weren’t?”
The surprise in Alicia’s tone reflected Harry’s own. He frowned at Marlee, wary of the sparkle in her bright blue eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
“Why, I was gonna ask Mama to cast Alicia as Mary. After all, it seems we’ve had our own miraculous conception right here in Pine Bluff, haven’t we?” she said, dividing a Cheshire-cat grin between the two. “Now spill. What’s this I hear about you having a baby?”
Chapter Sixteen
“I feel ridiculous,” Alicia groused.
Harry adjusted the flowing piece of fleece he wore on his head. “This was your brilliant idea.”
Drawing the draped blue fabric closer around her, Alicia shivered as they walked toward the town center. “I hope somebody remembers to bring a space heater.”
“I don’t believe they had those in Bethlehem,” Harry commented mildly. “You sure you’re okay with this?”
Her jaw set resolutely, she nodded. “I am ready to draw this guy out. And take him out, if necessary.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Harry said briskly. They covered another half block in silence before he spoke again. “Alicia, we have a lot of ground to cover.”
She nodded. “We’re almost there.”
“I’m not talking about the walk.”
“I know. Let’s get past this. We’ll talk about...everything.”
“Okay. But I have a few things to state for the record before we walk into this,” he said firmly.
She eyed him, wary. “Okay.”
“I need you to try to lie low. No one knows who or what you are other than a handful of people. No one will expect any heroics from you. There’s going to be a crowd there, and I know your first impulse is to throw yourself in front of any danger. I’m asking you to think before you act.”
Alicia swallowed the surge of indignation rising inside her. The implication she was a hothead who acted before thinking was completely unfair. But she and Harry had been doing the who’s-protecting-who polka since she’d arrived, so maybe he had some right to ask her to rein it in. And maybe it was time they drew some firm lines.
“I promise I won’t do anything foolish,” she said, speaking slowly and deliberately. “But I also take exception to the notion of me thoughtlessly endangering myself or anyone around me. I am a trained professional, Harry.”
“You’re also a pregnant woman who may be carrying her one and only chance to have a child,” he reminded her. “Likely my one and only chance too.”
She opened her mouth, but he raised a hand and drew to a halt. “I care about you, and I want to have the chance to see how things unfold between us.”
She stared at him. How was she supposed to respond to such direct honesty? Was this what he was implying by saying this child might be his only chance at being a parent, as well?
Drawing a deep breath, she gave him a dose of her own truth. “Harry, I care for you too. I’m attracted to you, as I showed the other night. I believe there might be something more between us, and I’d be open to exploring those feelings, but I don’t want this to be only because of the baby.”
He inclined his head. “Fair enough. And I need you to believe me when I tell you it isn’t only about the baby.”
Unable to resist touching him, she reached for his hand and his fingers closed warmly around hers. “Okay, so let’s catch this guy and see if we can’t get on with the rest of our lives.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he answered.
The area set up for the live nativity was small, which Alicia figured was a good thing since there was a distinct lack of heaters available. They crowded into the open stable constructed from two-by-fours and a slanting plywood roof, and stood where Carolee Masters directed. A wooden crate with spindly crisscrossed legs attached served as a manger.
“Kneel beside it, dear,” Carolee said, placing an implacable hand on Alicia’s shoulder and applying a surprising amount of pressure. “And try to look adoring. You’ve given birth to our Lord and Savior.”
Alicia stifled the urge to laugh, but a startled gasp escaped when she realized the baby doll she expected to see nested in the hay was a live infant swaddled tightly against the chill. “That’s a real baby,” she blurted.
Carolee Masters let out a tinkling laugh, pressing harder on Alicia’s shoulder. She allowed her knees to buckle and she sank down beside the makeshift manger.
“Of course it is, darlin’. We strive to be authentic,” Carolee said, waving her clipboard at a wandering shepherd to shoo him back into place.
Alicia stared up at her, stunned anyone would allow a small baby to lie exposed to the cold like this. “But they were in the desert. It’s only forty degrees out here. It’s too cold to keep a baby out here for hours at a time.”
“Oh, we swap them out,” one of the other women called to her. “Don’t you fret none.”
Alicia’s eyes widened. She returned her attention to the contented baby sleeping through all the hubbub. “Swap them out? How many babies do you have?”
“Well, this has been a good year,” Susie Troutman informed her. “We have three Jesuses all between the ages of six and nine months. We don’t let them participate until they’re over three months old.” She wrinkled her nose. “I know he’s supposed to be a newborn and all, but anything under six months is too young for the night air, you know?”
All around her, people nodded in agreement as if this reasoning were perfectly sound. Alicia saw Harry stationed near the front of the manger scene. Other people in various homemade costumes arrived.
“Oh, good,” Carolee Masters cried, clapping her hands with excitement. “Our angel has arrived, and so has our Joseph.”
Alicia spotted a beautiful preteen girl with strawberry blond hair dressed in a white robe and sporting a gold tinsel halo. As Carolee fussed over the man who would play her biblical spouse, Alicia surveyed the assembly. She’d memorized the photographs Marjorie Rinker had provided and was convinced she’d recognize Matthew Rinker if he was nearby. But the only familiar face, aside from Harry’s, knelt down at the other side of the manger and flashed a devastatingly potent smile.
“Hello, wife,” Simon Wingate said jovially.
Alicia could not hold back her snort. “Are you kidding me?”
“We couldn’t let Mary have any old husband,” he said with a retaliatory sniff. “Only the best.” Kneeling over the makeshift manger, he whispered, “Don’t worry. I took years of tae kwon do as a child. Don’t forget—I’m the one who broke Samuel Coulter’s wrist.”
“I remember. You’re Pine Bluff’s answer to Bruce Lee.”
He gave her a sober nod. “Damn straight.” He pulled a face when he spotted the sleeping baby. “Sorry, Jesus,” he apologized completely straight-faced.
Carolee Masters directed the rest of the cast to their places, and a small group of people assembled a few feet away from the makeshift stable. The chatter died down as the woman standing in front of the group raised her arms. They opened their mouths and began to sing “Away in a Manger.”
Alicia wanted to speak to Simon but found him gazing adoringly at one of the women in the choir. She turned and squinted at the assembled singers. Deputy Lori Cabrera stood in the second row, her usually neatly coiled hair flowing like a dark river over one shoulder. Shaking her head in disbelief, she muttered under her breath, “This town.”
She saw Harry’s lips tilt into a smirk as his gaze locked with hers. Sometimes it seemed the man could read her every thought. In case he could, she marshaled all of her powers of concentration and sent one right back at him.
This place is too much.
His smirk grew into a full-fledged smile and she knew he’d read her loud and clear.
They sat for thirty minutes, Alicia doing her best to maintain the guise of the adoring new mother. The more she watched the child sleeping in the hay, the easier it became. She had no idea if the baby wrapped in the wool blanket was a boy or a girl, but it didn’t matter. The baby was pink-cheeked and healthy, and the sight of the child tugged at something deep inside her.
She was scrolling through a mental list of all the things she would and would not allow her baby to do when someone jostled her from her thoughts. A woman stepped forward with another baby in her arms.
“It’s time to switch them out,” she said with a friendly smile. Nodding to the baby in the manger, she asked, “Would you mind?”
“Oh.”
Alicia stared down at the still-sleeping child and her heart rate kicked up. She’d never held a baby before. She didn’t have siblings or nieces or nephews. She didn’t have close friends whose kids called her auntie. Never in her life had someone thrust a baby into her arms, desperate for a brief respite from motherhood. She met the woman’s expectant expression, then studied the way she was holding the next child slated to portray the infant Savior.
“Yes. I can get him. Or her.”
The words were out of her mouth before the reality of what she was being asked set in. Alicia hoped someone else would step forward to volunteer for the task. Perhaps this child’s mother? But no one came to her rescue. Drawing a deep breath, she reached into the manger and slid her hands under the sleeping child, pulling up handfuls of straw with the baby. She cradled the child’s back and head like she’d seen on television.
“How dare you lay hands on the Christ child?” a voice boomed from the back.
Shocked, the assembled residents turned toward a tall man holding a box spray-painted gold. He wore a hooded cape of deep purple velvet, but his face was thin and gaunt. Alicia recognized him in an instant. This Matthew Rinker didn’t resemble the confident young man captured in his mother’s photos.
The people surrounding him parted. His eyes blazed as he stepped toward her. “How dare you lay hands upon our Lord? You, a woman who lies with a man who is not her husband,” he said in a voice both slurring and tremulous. He swung around to speak to the group at large, and almost as one, they took a step back in the tiny, confined space. The choir’s version of “O Holy Night” drifted away.
He rounded on Carolee Masters.
“How dare you bring this whore of Babylon into our sacred adoration? Do you not know what she is?” he demanded.
To her left, Marjorie Rinker stepped forward from the crowd. “Matthew—” his mother began in a calming tone.
“And you shall cast out these demons! Liste
n to those who speak in new tongues,” he cried.
Rinker turned his gaze on Alicia, and she could see his pupils had contracted to mere pinpricks in his eerie light blue eyes. Heroin. The man hadn’t found salvation from his addiction. He’d simply found somebody who would feed both of his hungers. Samuel Coulter had done this to him, and she would make sure Samuel Coulter paid.
Moving slowly, she pulled the child closer to her, opening her fingers to let the straw fall to the ground at her knees. She hugged the baby close and turned to place her body between the infant and the shouting man. Frantically, she scanned the stunned faces around her, trying to make eye contact with one of them so she could make a subtle handoff. But they were all watching Matthew Rinker. Surely, he wouldn’t try to harm her while she held the child he believed to be the son of God.
“Rinker—” Harry began, stepping closer to her. The man knocked back the hood he wore, and Alicia was dazzled by the glint of the floodlights catching the gold metallic emblems sewn into his robe. He was dressed as one of the Magi, she assumed. A king who would come to worship before an infant.
“And you,” the man spit. “Don’t you know the disgrace you’ve become? Don’t you understand the work we do is holy?”
Harry took another step closer, but Alicia motioned for him to stop. “Holy in what way?”
She was on her knees holding an infant, not a doll. Certainly not the best position to take somebody out, but she could stall him long enough to mitigate the scene unfolding around them.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lori Cabrera peel away from the choir and circle to the back of the stable set. Her gaze automatically sought Marlee Masters, for where the blonde was, Sheriff Ben Kinsella was sure to be nearby. Sure enough, there was an empty spot beside her new friend.
Alicia was assessing her next move when Rinker tossed back the side of his robe and lifted his arm fully extended. He held a gun and the business end of it was trained on Harry. Her Harry.
“In my name they will cast out demons. They will speak in new tongues. They will pick up serpents, and they will drink any deadly thing. It will not hurt them. They will lay their hands on the sick and they will recover,” Rinker cried, his voice rising to a fever pitch.